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It started like this: Wemmbu was gifted a set of Corpsmaster Signature drum sticks for Christmas by a relative that knew he played in his school's band. His uncle probably got him mixed up with Baablu—who actually did play the drums—but these were Wemmbu's now. Baablu could have fun with the reeds he probably got.
Wemmbu doesn't play the drums at all. He was perfectly comfortable with his saxophone and had no desire to change instruments like Spoke or learn a million of them like Parrot. But he wasn't about to let this gift go to waste. Especially one that was $32 for some wooden sticks.
Drumming shouldn't be that hard, right?
After the break had ended, Wemmbu had gone to Mane, because of course he had. Mane was cool and funny and could sometimes be understanding if you got him in the right mood. He was also really good at the drums, something that Wemmbu was mostly interested in. And, surprisingly, Mane had seemed receptive to helping Wemmbu learn how to drum.
Mane had gotten him started on a snare drum that he had pulled from the instrument closet that was still in pretty good condition, even if it was just a bit dusty. The faded ID tag on it said Nitenly, but Mane had just ripped it off and told Wemmbu it was his for now before Wemmbu could ask any questions.
With the band being in concert season now, there were significantly less afterschool rehearsals, but Mane still made Wemmbu stay after school two days a week. Lunchtime was scheduled more for theory learning because it meant that Wemmbu could study flashcards and Mane could eat. “Eating good food gets the brain and the body going,” Mane had said after Wemmbu had gotten annoyed at the drummer for doing literally nothing to help him during lunch. Wemmbu just learned to turn to Flame for off handed questions instead.
Being about to learn something new from someone he looked up to was nice! Like, really nice!
Wemmbu didn’t tend to have idols, especially not people he knew in real life. The first people he was supposed to look up to in life kinda dropped the ball on him even if they really did try their best, so he hasn’t really had any interest in finding someone to idolize. Everyone is human at the end of the day, after all. So it seemed pointless.
But Mane was just…cool.
He ignored Ash telling him to stop playing Jig2, he let Wemmbu take a nap in his tenor case a few times before they were properly close, and he was Flame’s cool older cousin that always noogied Flame anytime Flame got too big of an ego.
So it didn’t matter if Mane mostly just gave Wemmbu pointers while taking glance after glance at the sticks in Wemmbu’s hands instead of as much hands on teaching Wemmbu would’ve liked. It didn’t matter that Mane would ask to borrow Wemmbu’s sticks and almost forget to give them back at the end of class. Because Wemmbu was learning from Mane. And it was nice.
Learning how to drum was hard.
And, apparently, being a good student was as well.
Ba, Ba, Ba ba da. Wait. No. It was Ba Ba Ba, ba da. Then-
There was a knock on the door to the practice room, and Wemmbu stopped mid downbeat. He looked up, half expecting it to have been the janitor from the last few days telling him it was time to go home. Instead, he saw Parrot standing there, head tilted in confusion. They stared at each other for a moment before Parrot pointed to the door handle in a sort of Can I come in? motion. Wemmbu, against his best judgement, nodded.
His hands twitched a bit when the door opened just enough for Parrot to somewhat poke his head into the space. “What are you still doing here?” Parrot asked with a raised brow. The glance to the snare in front of Wemmbu had him thinking that Parrot knew but wanted to hear it from Wemmbu.
“Uh. Practicing?” Wemmbu answered with a laugh, holding up his sticks. “What else would I be doing in the practice room, Parrot.”
“You’re a sax,” Parrot countered, moving to lean against the wall so he could keep the door somewhat closed. It made Wemmbu feel a bit cornered, so all he could do was turn the sticks in his hands over and over and over. “And you have a snare in front of you.”
“I know that you’ve seen me playing with Mane. I’m just picking up a new skill.”
“I know that you haven’t played with Mane in a week and a half because I have gotten less complaints from Flame for having you in perc.”
Wemmbu shut his mouth.
There was a sort of uncomfortable silence between the two of them after that. It was almost as if Parrot was trying to drag it on longer so that Wemmbu would talk. About why he was still here after dark with an instrument he doesn’t play. About why he’s been harder on himself in Jazz. About why he was declining lunch hangouts in favor of dragging Egg with him to do…whatever.
But Wemmbu didn’t say anything. And Parrot was the one to break his own silence.
Parrot sighed and pushed himself off the wall. “I still have to do a few things for Ash for MPA season, so give me a few minutes. I’ll take you home.”
Wemmbu paused for a moment before his mouth caught up to the thoughts in his brain–ones that mostly consisted of confusion. “You don’t need to do that,” he managed to get out, “I already texted Egg what time I need to be home.”
“Then text him I’ve got you,” Parrot countered. “I’ll see you in five, Wemmbu.”
Wemmbu could only watch as Parrot closed the practice room door and walked away. And for a few moments, Wemmbu just stood there.
Look, he knows that Parrot and Spoke and Flame and the rest of their little group cares for him. He isn’t stupid like many people think he is. He’s observant and knowledgeable and constantly aware of the people around him as much as he can be. Maybe it's because of his middle school years, maybe he’s just always been a bit afraid, Wemmbu wasn’t sure. He just didn’t bother to apply himself in things he didn’t like or get himself involved in things he didn’t care about.
He knows that they care. Because they cover his meals for him when they all go out because they just want him there with them. Because they put up with him when he’s on too much of a high and when he’s on too much of a low. Because Flame checks in with him after a spat to make sure that they’re okay – because Flame has barely been in their group for more than a few months and doesn’t know how far Wemmbu is willing to take a good natured rivalry. Because Spoke will do almost anything that Wemmbu requests help with, even if it gets him on a teacher’s shit list. Because Parrot picks him up when he doesn’t want to be somewhere anymore and remembers exactly the way he likes his tea when he can’t sleep during sleepovers.
Wemmbu knows all of this. He knows all of this and more.
It’s just…any time one of his friends actually shows that they’re, well, friends, he doesn’t really know why he deserves that sort of treatment. Especially recently. Because how could he be someone worth putting time into if he can’t even learn the drums properly from one of the best drummers in their band? Hell, he can’t even get his own instrument right half the time.
Despite all of Wemmbu’s inner thoughts threatening to keep him rooted in place, he started to get moving. He tucked his sticks away and pulled a cover over the snare and began cleaning up his space with practiced efficiency to make it in Parrot’s 5 minute timeframe. He double checked then triple checked his bag had his music, his homework, and everything in between. He slipped his phone out of the front pocket and turned it on.
Wemmbu was quick to open up Egg’s contact, his best friend’s contact photo being a photo of them as toddlers at the beach. He stared at it for a moment as his fingers hovered over the keyboard before he tore his eyes away. The most recent text sent was Egg’s text at lunch today saying save me bro your friends are insane and…nothing from Wemmbu. Because he had been too busy practicing, sitting in this very practice room with a youtube video to learn polyrhythms quick enough to get to harder pieces of music.
Wemmbu just sucked in a breath and typed out a quick hey u don't need 2 worry abt picking me up in one message and followed it up with parrot is taking me home in a second.
Three dancing dots popped up next. It disappeared for a moment before they popped up again. wtf is parrot even doing there at this hour lmfao
idk something ash asked him to do he left before i could ask ┐(´ー｀)┌, Wemmbu sent, but he offered so im taking him up on it cause he’d already here and im at my dads 2nite anyways lol
There was no signs of Egg typing again for a few moments, so after he put his phone in his pocket, Wemmbu took that time to shoulder his bag and pick his instrument case up and walk out of the practice room, shutting off the light and locking the door with the key Ash had lent to him when Wemmbu had asked if he could start staying late to practice.
Don’t overwork yourself, Ash had said, dropping the keys into Wemmbu’s awaiting hand so Wemmbu could lock up the practice room when he was done using it. Learning shouldn’t come at the cost of yourself.
Wemmbu had just laughed it off and assured the man that he would be just fine. After all, he was totally responsible! Even if Ash had been the one to catch onto Wemmbu staying late and essentially breaking into one of the farther and harder to see practice rooms with nothing but his debit card. But Wemmbu had promised to keep the fact that Ash was definitely breaking the rules a secret and has been putting the key to good use.
As soon as the key turned, Wemmbu’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He walked over to the podium to put the key behind the conductor’s stick and pulled his back out to see that Egg had replied with, kk just lmk if anything changes and i’ll come and get you bro
ty bro ily, Wemmbu texted back, shifting how his bag sat on his shoulder slightly with a small movement so he could type better one handed.
np ily2, is what Wemmbu gets back and he hears the sound of a door closing and locking behind it. Wemmbu looked up to see Parrot exiting Ash’s office space with his own body slung across his body and halfway through shoving his flute case into his bag. A part of him was jealous with how portable it was, but Wemmbu also was sure he would pass out if he tried playing the flute like Parrot and Wifies did. Spoke had tried that once and got sent to the nurse’s office.
“Are you ready?” Parrot asked, his eyes flickering up to Wemmbu as he pulled his keys from his bag in the same motion as finally getting the case to fit. The many keychains jingled as Parrot closed the flap on his bag. “You’re at your dad’s right?”
Wemmbu could only find it in himself to nod at Parrot instead of answering verbally. Parrot, thankfully, did not push any further and started to lead them out of the band room and down the hallway. The only sound between them were their keychains hitting against their bags and the sound of their shoes on the concrete floor. Neither of them talked.
Wemmbu could see Parrot glancing at him subtly while messing with the pins on his bag’s strap. Wemmbu doesn’t look back at Parrot.
And that was how the walk to Parrot’s 2013 Toyota Corolla went, continuing as they put their bags in the back seat and climbed into their respective seats in the front. It continued as Parrot turned the car on and the engine started up. The air conditioning kicked on and the last CD Parrot had been listening to started halfway through a song. And it continued through Parrot slowly reversing out of his parking spot and out of the school’s parking lot.
Wemmbu knew that Parrot wanted to say something, placing the two of them in the same situation that that had been in prior when Parrot had said he would take Wemmbu home. Just a limbo of silence till someone breaks. Typically, Wemmbu has no problem talking about what plagues him, often annoying his friends with his complaints about his math class and about the people around him in his physics class and about how annoying having Econ first period made it hard to want to sleep in because its Redd that teaches the class and Wemmbu actually likes him.
It’s just a bit different when his current problem just boils down to Mane was mean to me last week and I can’t help but internalize it to the point that I genuinely feel like any progress I’ve made socially over the last few years is deteriorating. It’s stupid! Wemmbu should be able to handle simple words. He isn’t sure why he can’t get middle school out of his head when nothing could ever be as bad as those years. Being told he was practically unteachable and a lost cause for the drums once was nothing compared to all of the—
“You don’t have to talk about it,” Parrot said calmly, his voice backdropped by the sound of the car’s blinker and the CD’s music. It cut off Wemmbu’s thoughts easily. “But I’m here if you need me to be, Wemm.”
Wemmbu finally looked up from where he had been stretching out the fabric on the cuffs of his long sleeve to look at Parrot. The other teen’s eyes were on the road as he turned left, but Parrot spared a quick glance at Wemmbu once the car was going straight again.
He was reminded of the time halfway through second semester in their sophomore year when it had gotten kinda bad at his mom’s place again. Egg had been out of state for a family matter, making it where Wemmbu couldn’t have gone next door to cool off. So, he left his house and just started walking. Wemmbu had ended up sitting on the swings of an empty park at 8pm. After thirty minutes, Parrot had come out of nowhere and sat next to him for a few minutes before offering him a ride home.
Wemmbu had gotten into the car back then without much of a fight, and was put in the same quiet situation as now before Wemmbu had cracked and spoke about why he was outside at 3 ‘o clock in the morning with just his phone and nothing else. Parrot had listened well, and then did a K-point turn halfway down the street they were on and took Wemmbu back to his place instead of his mom’s.
Wemmbu had spent the night that night, and then a week later, Egg had confessed to Wemmbu that Egg had called Parrot because he could hear his mom on the phone with Wemmbu’s mom and heard the complaints about her ex-husband, and Egg had gotten worried.
That night had been one of the best in Wemmbu’s life.
Wemmbu’s hands fidgeted with his sleeves again as he continued to look at Parrot, whose gaze had turned back to the road. He wondered if Parrot was thinking about that night as well.
It was stupid. Wemmbu was upset over a stupid reason. But Parrot was a good listener. He was understanding and tried his best to help even if he totally didn’t get why something mattered. He was someone that stood by his own ideals fiercely and stood by his friends at any chance he could get. He has housed Wemmbu multiple nights since then, when Egg was unavailable or Wemmbu simply didn’t want to bother his best friend.
Parrot was a good person. He was an amazing person. Wemmbu hasn’t known him as long as some of the others in their friend group – he can’t compete with Wifies, who seems to be attached at Parrot’s hip, and he can’t compete with Spoke, who knows Parrot better than the teen probably knows himself – but Wemmbu has never felt less of a friend to Parrot despite it all. Because that's just the type of person Parrot was to the people he cared about. Inclusive and equal.
Wemmbu’s fingers found a loose thread in the cuff of his long sleeve.
“I’m not–” Wemmbu paused. How could he possibly put his thoughts into words without sounding like a petulant child? “I’m good at what I do, right?”
As soon as the words had left his mouth, Wemmbu took an interest in what his hands were doing again. They’ve been hurting a bit since he started this whole drumming thing, and rubbing the pads on his fingers against the red skin made it feel better. Mane had pointed to his own hands and said that it was cause of the wood against his hands making callouses. He’s had light callouses on his thumb before from his sax, but never anything that covered this much of his fingers..
“You are,” Parrot said, with enough conviction in his voice that made Wemmbu’s fidgeting stop. “You can’t tell Ash this, but I’ve been pushing for him to consider you for a solo for literally anything. I think he’s close to breaking.”
“...Seriously?”
Parrot hummed out a mmhm. “You’ve put a lot of work in to get to where you are today, especially since you came into high school without any band knowledge.”
Wemmbu frowned as he looked up. “I did have band knowledge.” Parrot snickered.
“Bro, elementary recorder knowledge does not count.” Wemmbu laughed back and some of the tightness in his body melted away. Parrot went on to continue. “Whatever, dude. Point is, you’re good with a saxophone. If you stop using old reeds, then you would probably be even better. I’ve been messing around with instruments my whole life and you took to sax better than I did.” Parrot glanced at Wemmbu. “Is this what all of this is about? Imposter syndrome with sax?”
Wemmbu blinked. He didn’t really think he needed to say it out loud. Parrot knows about how he hasn’t been around perc in a week already and Parrot literally saw him today in front of a snare. Parrot is their drum major, takes all APs, and recently found out that he is within top ten students in their grade level. Hell, Parrot plays word games and puzzles for fun and genuinely likes doing the word searches in newspapers. Putting the piece together shouldn’t be difficult. Even Egg, almost clueless as ever about a ton of things, put it together within a few days.
“No. It’s something else. It’s just…y’know how it is,” Wemmbu said, trying to skirt around the topic. Because, again, being a bit upset over some words said by someone didn’t hold a candle to any of the previous issues he’s shared with Parrot. Shared with anyone, really.
The silence returned. Wemmbu could basically hear Parrot going, oh I certainly don’t, bro, why don’t you elaborate for me? in the silence. Wemmbu cleared his throat and turned to look out the windshield instead of at his friend. He could see the familiar turn into his dad’s neighborhood coming up and shifted in his seat. He watched it get closer and closer and…then watched as Parrot completely blew past it.
“Uh- Parrot-”
“I know,” Parrot cut him off. “But something is eating you up inside and even if you don’t want to talk about it, I’m not about to let you sit at home wallowing in pity or whatever you were gonna do, bro.” Okay, well Wemmbu wasn’t gonna do that, He was just…gonna be a little sad at the drum pad that Flame gave him because it was one of the ones he never used. That's all.
Wemmbu nodded instead of insisting he should be dropped off. Because, really, what was he supposed to do? Plus, he liked Parrot’s house. And being with other people made some of the more unpleasant thoughts not ring so loud in his head.
“You’re being too nice to me, bro,” Wemmbu chose to say. “You really don’t have to be doing any of this.”
“Sure,” Parrot responded. “But I want to. And I’m going to do what I want.” Parrot spoke like it was simple. As if being kind to Wemmbu was as easy as breathing. It kinda made Wemmbu wonder what made it so hard for others to deal with him if Parrot acted like this was nothing. If it was easy for Parrot to just want to be kind to him, why was it not easy for others?
“Oh,” Wemmbu said, looking down at his scuffed shoes. “Okay. Sure.” Wemmbu swallowed. The teen glanced up and saw that they were finally entering Parrot’s neighborhood. He would recognize the oak trees that lined the street anywhere. It made him relax just a little bit more.. “...thank you.”
Thank you for not pushing, even though the need to push was clear. Thank you for being there in general. Thank you for, well, everything.
Parrot just smiled. “It's no problem.”
Wemmbu knew he wouldn’t find it in him to tell Parrot about what Mane said, about how much Parrot and Spoke and Flame and all them have changed his life for the better, about how much this stupid car ride meant to him. Not now, maybe not ever. Wemmbu wasn’t really sure.
Drumming was hard, and Wemmbu may not be the best student, but at least Parrot knew he was thankful. And that was enough for Wemmbu for now.